Heroes About the House
by Niki Bogwater
Summary: Snapshots of life for Hyrule's Royal Family. Post-BotW Zelink family fluff.
1. A Mother's Burden

**Summary: Zelda has to learn a hard truth about motherhood when her son earns his first bruise.**

**A/N: Yes, I did rearrange the chapter order because I wanted this to be the introduction. No, this project is not replacing "Simple and Sweet." But I did encounter a creative block with that story and felt I needed some time away from it to work on something else. In the meantime, enjoy some Mommy!Zelda.**

* * *

Zelda was in despair.

This was worse than coming down from Mount Lanayru with no powers to show for her efforts. Worse than facing Calamity Ganon alone, knowing Link was trapped in the Shrine of Resurrection for goddess knew how long. Worse than being cocooned in the belly of evil itself, praying ceaselessly, living off of hope alone, never knowing if the next moment would be the one where she finally lost her strength. Truly, this was the worst disaster she had ever faced in her unfathomably long life.

Tiran had run into a column in the hall and now had a bruise the size of a small plum on his forehead. He was wailing piteously.

"I'm so sorry, my darling!" she whimpered, clutching her squirming boy tightly. "It was all my fault! Please forgive me!" Tiran, being only eleven months old, did not yet understand the concept of forgiveness, and so continued to scream unhappily. Zelda was quite close to weeping herself.

She had been so careful! When he was born, he was so tiny and fragile, she felt as though he would break with the slightest movement of her arms. She had vowed that first day that she would never allow harm to befall him, not before he had a chance to defend himself. And she had done everything right, up until now. He had never wanted for anything more than a diaper change in his short existence. She had just begun to believe that perhaps she really could raise this delicate, infinitely precious little bundle of life. And then he had begun to walk.

Perhaps "walk" was a generous way of putting it. It was more of a drunken swagger. But it was more effective than crawling, and suddenly a whole new world had opened up for Tiran to wander through. And one of the first things he wandered into was a very hard column, face-first, after twisting his ankle and tipping forward with all his weight behind him. Zelda had sworn to protect him from all the evils of the world, and then had gone and let him slam right into a stone wall. Truly, there was never a more reprehensible woman in the world than she.

The situation was made a hundred times worse when Zelda's husband, paragon of heroism and justice that he was, came into the bedroom, mouth half-open to greet her, and sheath already shrugged off of his shoulder. He froze in the doorway and took in the situation. Zelda, with tears welling up in her sad green eyes, clutching a screaming, squirming Tiran as though someone had threatened to spirit him away from her, and looking all the world like she was about to face the executioner's block. There was a rather long silence as Link's eyes darted between his distraught wife and his furious son, waiting for an explanation that Zelda didn't want to give.

"Oh, _Link!_" Zelda wailed, beginning to cry in earnest. "I've d-done something t-t-terrible!" It took a few moments of confusion and panic, but Link was finally able to piece together exactly what had happened. At first, when he saw the size of the bruise and the expression of childish agony on his son's small face, his first instinct was to grab his sword and go hack the offending column to pieces. Then he realized that would do nothing to solve the problem at hand, namely, calming both his hysterical wife and child.

Resisting his initial desire to abandon his emotional control, he carefully pulled Tiran out of Zelda's arms and laid him against his shoulder, bouncing up and down gently. Zelda went across the room and sank onto the bed, crossing her arms and hugging herself tightly with a little whimper. After a few minutes, Tiran calmed and began fiddling with Link's earring. Really, half of his problem was just that his mother had been clinging to him too tightly. Father had much gentler arms. Tiran voiced this observation with a quiet croon and yanked a bit harder on Link's earring in appreciation. Expertly unfastening his son's fingers from the jewelry with one hand, the Prince Consort gingerly lowered the child into the playpen in the corner, where he sat, contentedly cooing and gnawing on a teething ring. Already feeling a bit calmer himself, Link turned his attention to his wife, who was staring at their son as though he was a lost privilege. Link cautiously approached her and sat beside her. When she didn't react, he took it as a good sign, and put an arm around her shoulders.

"It's really not that bad," he began timidly, speaking as much to himself as to Zelda.

"He could have been concussed," Zelda moaned, refusing to look at him. "Or dashed his brains out on the floor."

"...No, I really don't think so," Link replied as calmly as he could. "He's alright now, see? Already forgotten the whole thing."

"He would hate me if he knew better," Zelda sniffled. "I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not," Link said with a bit of exasperation. "It was an accident."

"I should have protected him. I always fail when there are people counting on me!"

"No, you _don't,_" Link barked a little more sharply than he had meant. "I count on you every day, and you're always there for me." He flushed deeply as she finally turned to look at him, surprise mingling with the tears in her eyes. Even after all this time, it was still awkward to talk about his feelings, even to her. "...There's just some things you can't protect people from," he continued quietly. "Even him."

"But he's...Link, he's so _small! _And helpless!" Zelda whimpered.

"Not nearly as small as he used to be," Link argued. "He's getting bigger and stronger every day. But there will always be things that can hurt him. Things we can't stop. Our responsibility is to be there for him when he does get hurt. That's all we can really do." He tugged her closer and put his other arm around her, hoping that was all he needed to say. He was worn out from a long day, and it was still hard for him to find all the words Zelda needed to hear. She snuffled into his tunic, but didn't sob anymore. Tiran impatiently banged his ring against the bars of his pen, wishing to be the center of attention once again. Hesitantly, Zelda pulled back from Link and crossed to room to pick up her son, examining the bruise. It didn't look quite as big as it had at first. Tiran really had forgotten all about it, and was now happily tapping her collarbone with his wet toy.

"I suppose...It's not so very bad, is it?" she murmured, breathing a short sigh. "And it had to happen if he was ever going to learn to walk." Link hummed in agreement, coming up behind her and resting his chin on her shoulder, staring into Tiran's large blue eyes. "...It will probably happen again, won't it?" Zelda added sadly.

"Probably," Link replied. He pressed a feather-light kiss to her cheek. "But we'll be there when it does." Zelda settled against him comfortably, content in the knowledge that she really wasn't the _worst _mother in the world. Just not the best. But perhaps that was alright. Every child had to bump their head before they could walk. And every heart had to hurt before it could be made whole. She certainly knew that from personal experience. But she realized, standing there with Link's arms around her and her son in her own, she wouldn't trade that pain for anything now. Everything had happened for a reason, and she wouldn't change a moment of it if it meant she couldn't have the life she had now.

"You're going to be a great king, someday," she said quietly to her son. "I suppose this is just the first of many lessons we have to learn before we get there, hmm?"

"Ga-baa," Tiran wisely agreed.

"Though I must say it would be better for my nerves if you were an exceptionally quick learner, and we did not have to do this again."

The child chose not to make any such promise.

* * *

"_Ow!_"

"Sit still," Zelda reprimanded, giving her son's shoulder a gentle smack.

"You're making it worse," he complained, gripping the edge of his bed as he hunched forward.

"That means it's working," the queen informed him, spreading more of the pungent medicinal salve over the cut on his back. "Now," she said briskly, unrolling a length of bandage to wrap around his chest. "What have we learned today?"

"Never turn your back on a Lizalfos," Tiran muttered through gritted teeth, inhaling sharply as the clean bandages were pressed against the still-stinging wound.

"_Don't _pick fights with Lizalfos _at all,_" his mother corrected him hotly.

"I wasn't picking a fight with Lizalfos. I was picking a fight with a Moblin when the Lizalfos showed up out of nowhere. _Ow!_" Zelda yanked sharply on the bandage to tighten it.

"That's hardly any better! Honestly, Tiran, it's like you _ask _for trouble to find you. Even your reckless father knows better than to go galavanting off into known Moblin territory without at least a Hasty Elixir." The young prince stiffened a bit at the mention of his father. There was a silent pause as Zelda cut the end of the bandage from the roll.

"It was patrolling a trade route," Tiran said softly. "The merchants who travel that road with their goods were in danger." There was another stretch of silence as Zelda regarded her son with a softer look. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "A-and besides. It was guarding a chest with three hundred Rupees in it. There was no way I was going to walk past that."

"You are the crown prince of Hyrule," Zelda pointed out gently, packing her supplies back into the medical kit. "You are not exactly hurting for finances." She set the kit on the bed beside her and carefully draped her arm across Tiran's slumped shoulders. "I cannot say that I'm not proud of you," she admitted. "But you need to exercise more caution. Hyrule is depending on you. And you know what it would do to Father and me if something happened to you." She squeezed him gently and tucked a loose lock of his hair behind his ear. Goddesses, he looked so much like Link it was uncanny. The only thing Tiran took from Zelda was his range of expression. It was always easy to tell what the young man was thinking, just from the look on his face. Right now, he was embarrassed, but also a little pleased with himself.

Tiran cleared his throat awkwardly and gently shrugged her arm off of his shoulder as he stood up, stretching carefully so as not to worsen the throbbing in his back.

"I would...appreciate it," he said haltingly. "If you would...fail to mention this encounter to Father."

"He would not scold you any more than I already have," Zelda pointed out.

"No, he would stare stonily at me and then tell me after a long, awkward silence that this only happened because I wasn't keeping up with my training," Tiran spat. He flushed as he realized what he said. Zelda's look of affection mingled with worry dropped into one of disappointment.

"Tiran..." she began softly.

"Just...nevermind," he huffed, grabbing his bloody tunic from the floor and angrily throwing it into the laundry hamper.

"Tiran, I _know _he's proud of you," Zelda insisted. "He only pushes you because he wants you to be safe. If you would just talk to him, I'm sure he would-"

"Yeah, I know," Tiran interrupted quickly, in a way that told Zelda that he knew, but he really didn't believe it. "I know, I-I'm sorry." He grabbed a fresh tunic out of the wardrobe and pulled it over his head. "Well, I'm rather famished," he said brightly, running a hand through his mussed hair. "Think I'll head down to the kitchens and see what Miss Koko's baked today." He leaned down and pecked Zelda's cheek. "Thanks for the doctoring, Mother."

"Of course," the queen sighed, watching him leave. She remained perched on the edge of his bed for a while, eyes wandering around the room, taking in the sight of battered shields on the wall, monster horns hung above the mantle, and a broken training dummy in the corner. It had been sixteen years, and her son still had a lot to learn. But she had been there for every bump, bruise, cut, and heartbreak that had taught him, no matter how much it pained her to see him hurt.

"And I suppose that's all we can really do," she said to herself with another sigh.


	2. Cupcakes in the Library

**Summary: Link bonds with his youngest daughter over cupcakes and life advice.**

* * *

Zelda often called her youngest daughter her Silent Princess_. _The child was unusually quiet for a girl of nine years. She had little use for the eloquence and poetry often found among members of the royal court. Instead, she took solace in the silence of the castle library, the smell of old parchment, and the written words of ancient legends and histories. Her tutors struggled to drill into her mind the complexities of court etiquette and the manners and poise of a princess. Though the throne would pass to her older brother, the young princess would still be expected to address her people and give them comfort and council during times of strife.

It was not that Niva didn't want to be a good princess for her people. But it was a lot to ask of a child to be equipped with the words to meet every situation. Listening to people was just so much simpler than leading them. The words of old stories were much easier to recall than the words to pacify an angry noble or comfort a struggling peasant. Besides, she often found that words really weren't that necessary to communication. Her father was a prime example of this.

It was a hot afternoon in the middle of summer. Her tutors had given up early today, weakened by the heat and frustrated with her lack of verboseness. Niva had happily taken the opportunity to sequester herself in the castle library, bent over a dark wooden desk with a thick tome of old legends propped up in her small hands. It was cool and silent among the rows of bookshelves. While the collection was nowhere near what it used to be in Mother's childhood, she and Father had gathered quite a number of texts during their travels around the world; scrolls and records, but also legends and folklore from distant towns. Niva buried herself in these stories, chasing away the remonstrations of her angry tutors, and filling her mind with words of history and myth, rather than politics and niceties.

She was gently drawn from the world of fantasy by a hand on her shoulder and a kiss pressed into her hair. Father slid wordlessly into the chair next to her, a cupcake in each hand. He stuffed one into his mouth whole and set the other by her elbow, peering inquisitively at the title of her book. She shifted the tome so that the cover faced him. He hummed with interest and leaned forward, resting his cheek against his fist. His hair was damp, and he was still wearing his training gear. He seemed to have just come in from the courtyard. He read over Niva's shoulder for a minute, taking in the tail end of a story about a Gerudo woman who fought evil alongside one of the ancient heroes.

"Lady Riju gave us this one," he said, after she had reached the end of the chapter.

"It has a lot of strange words," Niva commented, setting down the book and taking up the cupcake. "Like this one." She pointed to a word near the top of the page.

"It's Gerudo," Link explained. "_Sarqso. _It means 'thank you.'"

"I thought it did," Niva replied, rubbing icing from her chin. "It was the only thing that made sense. Do you speak Gerudo, Father?"

"Not really," he confessed. "I only know a few words. Mother studied it while we were in the region. You could ask her to teach you."

"I don't think I could learn it," Niva said softly, looking down at her half-eaten cupcake. Link regarded her in silence for a moment. Feeling his gaze upon her, she continued. "I always have trouble learning words."

"It's not that," Link replied after a pause. "You know more words than most children twice your age. It's learning how to use them that's the hard part."

"How did you learn?" she asked, taking another bite of her cupcake. They sat together in silence for a moment, as Link searched his memory.

"I suppose by just...talking to people," he said at length. "I went out into the world and listened to people, and I learned how to say what they needed to hear. But I've got a secret for you," he added, and Niva leaned forward in interest. "Most people don't need you to say a thing. It's listening to them that's hard. But that's not so hard for you, is it?" He gave her one of his small, rare smiles, a proud look in his eyes.

"I don't like listening to Master Getsu," Niva admitted.

"Nobody does. He's the wordiest old coot of all the Sheikah. But he's the only one who remembers ancient Royal etiquette." Niva giggled at her father's brazenness. If Mother were here, she would scold him. There was another brief silence as the princess nibbled her snack.

"Father," she ventured hesitantly. "Do you...think I'm a good princess?" Link regarded his daughter thoughtfully for a moment, searching for the words she needed to hear.

"Well, let's see," he began, leaning both elbows on the desk. "You're very clever, you always try your best, you want to learn about Hyrule and its history, and you're always kind to everyone you meet, even when it's hard. So I think that makes you one of the best princesses in the world," he finished solemnly. "What do you think?"

"Master Getsu says that a princess needs to know what to say, and how to answer hard questions. He says she needs to know all the laws and how to punish people who break them." Niva scrunched up her nose. "So I don't think I'm a very good princess."

"Well, I suppose some of that is true," Link conceded, distracted by the sight of Niva's unfinished bite of cupcake. She handed it to him wordlessly and it promptly disappeared. "But I hope Master Getsu will forgive me," he continued, licking icing off of his thumb. "for thinking that a princess who only knows pretty words and punishments does not sound like the kind of lady I would like to be friends with, much less the father of." He fixed his gaze on Niva again, bolstered by the sense of a satisfied stomach. "You know, people used to say that Mother wasn't a very good princess."

"They did?!" Niva gasped, bewildered by the thought. "But Mother's so pretty and kind and smart, and she always wants to help people."

"All important parts of being a princess. Well, perhaps not so much being pretty. But sometimes, when people are trying to be their best, or encourage someone else to be so, they make out some things to be more important than they really are, and others less so. The people now love Mother for her bravery and kindness, but not everybody has always seen it that way. There will always be people who will tell you you're not good enough. Sometimes those people can be right, and point out important flaws that need to be fixed. But often, it's simply a case of them refusing to see what you _are _good for." He paused, and regarded her fondly for a moment. "Do you remember a few weeks ago, when you visited the infirmary with Mother?" Niva nodded. "One of my knights was there with a broken leg. I saw him earlier today and he told me you came to his bed and gave him a care package. You hardly said anything to him, but he said the look of compassion and empathy on your face was something he had never seen from a girl your age. He told me he was glad that you were his princess."

"H-he did?" Niva fumbled, turning bright red. She hadn't been meaning to look like anything during that visit. Master Getsu told her princesses needed to conceal their feelings in order to look strong. Link nodded.

"Even if there are things you're not good at, there will always be people who love you for who you are."

"Like you?" Niva prodded. Link looked a little surprised for a moment. She knew she was pushing her limits. Father didn't like to talk about his feelings, and really, she didn't need him to in order to know. But something in her wanted to hear it.

"...Of course," he answered after a pause, his face relaxing. An awkward silence followed, and Niva felt both happy and flushed at the same time. Link nervously cleared his throat and scratched his cheek. "W-well I need to get going." He scooted his chair back with a loud screech and abruptly stood up. He patted her shoulder and moved to leave, but the sound of her voice stopped him.

"Father?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you, too."

* * *

The rest of the world could talk itself breathless. Link and Niva saved their words for when it really mattered. Even so, a fond smile and a couple of cupcakes spirited from the kitchen often said more than enough in the years to come.


	3. Shadow of a Legend

**Summary: It was one thing to know your parents were heroes, but another thing entirely to learn that they were legends.**

**A/N: ****I spent. SO. LONG. On this one. And I'm not even sure if I like it very much. I also couldn't find a good place to list the children's ages in this piece, so:**

**Tiran is 12**

**Amari is 10**

**Niva is 5**

**Hope you all enjoy. :)**

* * *

There are no walls that boredom cannot penetrate eventually. Even deep within the confines of Hyrule Castle, the dread monster of mirthlessness could find its way into the hearts of the most well-entertained of children, even of princes and princesses. And today, the Royal children were feeling the claws of disinterest sinking deep into their souls. Mother had a meeting with the Council to discuss a new treaty, Father had to oversee the examination of a new squire, and lessons had been canceled that day due to Master Getsu's returning migraine. This left the three children with nothing to do and no one to keep them company. Worse still, all three of them seemed to have been afflicted with an intense bout of dissatisfaction at the same time, so that none of their usual activities held any appeal to them that day.

Amari was in the garden, swinging her wooden halberd with little enthusiasm, while Tiran sprawled on the grass nearby. Niva was looking contemplatively from one of her siblings to the other, waiting for someone to suggest an activity. Tiran stared up at the jewel-bright sky, wincing at the sound of Amari's weapon whistling sharply through the air.

"You've run that drill fifteen times today," he complained, throwing an arm across his face to block out the sunlight. "Can't you think of _anything _else to do?"

"No," Amari answered bluntly, jabbing at an invisible foe with the blunt end of her pole. "But at least I'm doing something, and not lying around like an overfed Hinox."

"There's nothing to _do,_" Tiran whined.

"You could train," Amari pointed out, swinging her halberd over his head. "For once," she added sharply.

"I don't need to," he informed her, waving her away and looking back up at the sky. "I already know all the forms."

"Father says knowing is not the same as doing," the princess reminded him, stepping back and swinging her staff in the opposite direction.

"Lay off, Mari, I could do this week's set in my sleep. Doing it again would be just as bad as doing nothing." Amari slid back into a neutral stance and looked at him with critical green eyes.

"How do you expect to get any good at swordplay if you never practice?"

"I practice plenty!" Tiran said hotly, glaring up at her. "You and Father expect way more than what's necessary. Y'know, most people have lives to live beyond their training."

"Seems to me you're living very little at the moment," his sister quipped dryly.

"Oh, because swinging a pole around is _so _meaningful," he retorted.

"I'm practicing to protect people. Are you saying that the lives of our subjects are meaningless?" she shot back coldly. "You know, it's our responsibility to face danger when-"

"_Our _responsibility?" Tiran scoffed. "_Mine, _maybe. _I'm _the one who's going to be king, so you can stop trying to elbow in and-"

"Where's Father?" Niva piped up suddenly. She had been watching her siblings intently for the past few minutes, and felt the atmosphere heating up for a real fight.

"He's examining a new squire, Niva, remember?" Amari supplied the answer a little grumpily, giving her halberd a forceful swing.

"When will he be finished?" Niva persisted, glancing between the two children nervously.

"Later," her sister snapped. "Why don't you go to the library while you wait?"

"I ran out of books to read. Anyways, I need to ask him something. I think it's important."

"You think every question is important," Tiran pointed out, plucking a blade of grass and twisting it between his fingers. "What is it this time?"

"Mother says every question _is _important," Niva said with a huff. "I found a picture of a sword in a book, and it looks just like the one Father has in his and Mother's room. I want to know how he got it."

"Father's sword was in a book?" Amari asked, forgetting her halberd for a moment. "Which book?"

"I don't remember what it was called. Parts of it were in Ancient Hylian, so I couldn't read all of it. It was about a hero and a princess who fought a monster."

"You just described most of the books in the library," Tiran deadpanned. "Hyrule's history is full of princesses and heroes and monsters."

"Mother and Father fought a monster once," Amari added. "Mother's told you that story plenty of times."

"But she never said anything about a sword," Niva said. "The book said the hero needed the sword to fight the monster."

"It is a little weird..." Tiran observed, sitting up and discarding his crumpled blade of grass. "I've seen Father's sword loads of times, but he never talks about it, except to tell me to never, ever touch it, no matter what."

"He said the same thing to me," Amari said, resting the end of her staff against the ground. "I thought it was a little strange. He lets me hold all of his other weapons, even Champion Mipha's trident, and Mother says that's one of his most prized possessions. Why wouldn't he want us to know about his sword?"

"Maybe it's not the same sword, though," Tiran suggested. "Niva, are you _sure _the picture was exactly the same as Father's sword?"

"Pretty sure," Niva answered with a hesitant nod. "I can go get it if you want to check."

"Or-r-r..." Tiran began slowly. "We could take a look at the real thing. Father doesn't take it to examinations, so it's probably in his room."

"Tiran, we're not supposed to touch it!" Amari exclaimed, horrified by the idea.

"I didn't say I was going to touch it! But...well, now I'm curious. Why would Father's sword be in a book? You know he wouldn't answer if we asked. He won't talk about it."

"Then we could ask Mother," Amari argued. "She always gives us answers."

"But Mother's in the councilroom, and she's going to be there all day. Besides, she always tells us that the best answers are the ones you find for yourself."

"I'm pretty sure she wasn't talking about this when she said that."

"Come on, Mari! I'm so bored, and now we finally have something to do! What if Father's sword is actually really important? Shouldn't future kings and princesses know about really important things like that? Especially about swords?" Tiran knew how to wear his sister down. When it came to weapons, she was insatiably curious, and not even her respect for their father could outweigh her desire to learn more about them. "Mother and Father let us in their room all the time," he added, recognizing the signs of her caving by the conflicted look on her face. "They won't mind if we just go in for a quick peek and see if we can find anything."

"...We can look," Amari conceded at last. "But I'm only coming to make sure you don't touch it!"

"Fine, then. Just looking. Niva, go get your book and meet us at Mother and Father's chambers."

* * *

Going to their parents' room had never felt quite like this before. They knew they were allowed there, yet at the same time, they slipped through the door as though they were afraid of being caught. Amari's posture screamed tension, and Tiran's eyes nervously darted across the room before he took a tentative step inside. Niva came enthusiastically striding in after them, still too young to understand the gravity of the situation, a thick book clutched in her small arms.

"There it is," she said happily, pointing to the wall above their mother's writing desk. Father's sword rested on a pair of hooks driven into the wall, its pommel gleaming in the daylight coming from the window near it. The elaborate embroidery on the sheath seemed almost iridescent, and the older children were struck with a sense of awe as they examined it. Niva opened her book and thumbed through it. "And it's in here, too," she said, holding the tome up to her siblings. Sure enough, there was an illustration of the same sword that hung on the wall, elaborately detailed, right down to the highlight in the jewel at the center of the crosspiece.

"It could still be different," Tiran noted, glancing between the picture and the sword. "The handles are the same, but the blade might not be."

"Why would the blade be different?" Niva asked.

"Sometimes blacksmiths use the same handle design for different swords." He clambered onto the chair by the desk, reached up, and carefully lifted the sheathed blade off of its rack.

"_Tiran!_" Amari hissed, afraid they might be heard. "You're not supposed to touch it!"

"I'm just going to unsheath it for a minute to check the blade. I'll put it back right away." He got off the chair and grasped the sheath in one hand, while his other gingerly closed around the hilt of the weapon.

The moment his fingers gripped the sword, he felt a jolt in his stomach, and had to fight the sudden urge to vomit. It felt like his soul was being dragged out of his chest, slowly and painfully, taking his breath with it. He wanted to let go, but his fingers had locked around the hilt in a white-knuckled grip, and in his suffocating terror, he couldn't get them to open. Amari screamed as his knees buckled underneath him. The room became a blur of colored light and a strange wind roared in his ears. He distantly felt his head hit the floor as blackness filled his vision, and then a warm pressure closed over his stiff fingers.

* * *

"Tiran..."

The young prince groaned, shifting his pounding head to the side, trying to shake the voice out of his ears. There was something warm beneath his head, and he wanted nothing more than to burrow into it and sleep for a week.

"Tiran, wake up."

The voice persisted, so with great difficulty, he forced his heavy eyelids open. He found himself staring up into eyes that mirrored his own, the exact same shade of sapphire blue, framed by messy locks of wheat-colored hair. Tiran swallowed.

_Crud._

"Can you hear me?" Father asked, his quiet voice bouncing around in Tiran's aching head like the echo of a thunderclap.

"Y-yeah," he mumbled hoarsely. He blinked rapidly as he took in his surroundings. He was still in the bedroom, with Amari and Niva kneeling beside him. The warm thing underneath him was Father's hand, carefully cradling his head in his open palm. Father let out a short breath of relief and looked up at the others.

"Alright," he said quietly, using his "Captain of the Guard" voice. "What happened?" Amari stared fixedly at the floor, shame blazing in her bright green eyes. Niva glanced nervously between her and Tiran, waiting for one of them to speak up. When neither offered to, she took a shaky breath and addressed their Father in a small voice.

"It was my fault. I was reading this book..." She gestured to the discarded tome behind her, which had fallen to the floor still open to the page in question. "...and I recognized your sword. I told Tiran and Mari about it, and Tiran wanted to check to see if they were the same."

"It wasn't your fault..." Tiran groaned, lifting a hand to his smarting head. "I'm the idiot who touched the thing."

"And I'm the idiot who let you," Amari spat, her fists clenching on top of her lap. "I should've tried harder to stop you."

"When you say you touched it," Father questioned Tiran. "did you actually grasp the hilt?"

"Yeah. I was just going to pull it out of the sheath to look at it, but when I touched it, it...grabbed me, somehow, and started...started pulling at me, like it was sucking the air out of my lungs, and I couldn't let go. I think I fell...I don't really remember..."

"He fainted, and Mari ran out to find you," Niva supplied. "She told me not to touch the sword, but when she left I heard a voice telling me to take it away from him, so I did." She pointed to the sword, which was now lying next to her. Father's gaze drifted from her to the weapon, then back to her.

"You heard a voice?" he asked. Niva nodded shyly. "Did you recognize it?" The small princess wrung her hands thoughtfully for a moment.

"Sort of," she answered at length. "It felt like I had heard it before, but I couldn't remember when, or who it was."

"And when you took the sword," Father continued, his face tightening with something like distress. "Did you touch the hilt?" Niva nodded again. "What happened then?"

"Nothing," she said. "I had to pull Tiran's hand off...He was holding it really tight. But I got it away from him and put it down, and I haven't touched it since then, I promise!" She looked ready to cry. For some reason, Father's questions were scaring her.

"Alright, easy," he soothed quickly. "I just wanted to know exactly what happened." He looked down at Tiran, his face blank again. "So, now you know why I told you not to touch it," he said, his voice hard. Tiran winced.

"In my defense, if I'd known it was going to do _that_, I never would've done it."

"You don't have any defense. I told you to stay away from it. That should've been the end of it."

"I know..." Tiran huffed, letting his tired eyes close to hide the tears welling up there. His heart plummeted at the sound of the disappointment in Father's voice. The knowledge that he had let him down was far worse than any punishment his parents would give him.

The hand holding his head shifted, and he felt a pair of lips brush across his forehead.

"I'm really glad you're alright," he heard Father whisper, as if to himself.

The tears gathering behind Tiran's eyelids burned hotter than ever.

* * *

Tiran lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling above his bed. Mother had forbidden him from leaving his room for the rest of the day, partly as a form of punishment, but also as a precaution to keep him from overexerting himself as he recovered. Really, once his ears stopped ringing, he was perfectly fine, but the Queen was immovable, and it wasn't as though he could ask Father to plead his case for him. Once more finding himself in the clutches of boredom, he let his mind drift listlessly from one thought to the next, pondering the events of that afternoon.

It was one thing to know your parents were heroes, but another thing entirely to learn that they were legends. Tiran had heard the story of Ganon's defeat ever since he was born. He never thought much of it, however. To him, Mother and Father had always been heroes, battling ferocious monsters or no. Now it was different. They had told him the whole story. Father wasn't just a talented knight, he was the hero chosen by fate. Mother wasn't just a gifted leader, she was the goddess incarnate, and it didn't take a genius to work out that his youngest sister was as well.

So where did that leave him? The Master Sword had rejected him, even though he was Link's son. His father was disappointed in him, and his mother had practically imprisoned him. Granted, it was only for the night, but it still stung his pride. Would they have still punished him if the Sword had accepted him? Father would have considered him touching the blade insubordination no matter what the outcome was, but it was all too easy to believe that he wouldn't have been half as disappointed as he was now if it had turned out Tiran was the next Chosen Hero.

There was a light tap on the door, drawing him from his thoughts. Link stepped in without waiting for a reply, closing the door behind him with a sharp _click _that made Tiran's stomach twist. The Prince Consort regarded his son silently for a moment, arms crossed and face pensive. Tiran felt like a caged monkey being ogled at by a creature far more intelligent than he. He sat up out of respect, but kept his eyes on the floor. Finally, Link breathed a quiet sigh, loosened up, grabbed a nearby chair, and sat down by the bed. Tiran felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. One-on-one confrontations with his father had always been a bit awkward, but now that he knew exactly what Link was, they were downright terrifying.

"How are you feeling?" Link asked quietly.

"Fine," Tiran grunted, eyes wandering around the room looking for something to fix on that wasn't the hero's face.

"Has the headache passed yet?" Tiran couldn't stop himself from looking up at his father.

"How did you know I had a headache? I didn't say anything about it."

"The Sword rejected me too, once," Link said in a rather clipped voice. "Left me with a splitting head for hours afterwards." Tiran said nothing for a long while, processing this unexpected piece of information.

"But...it serves you now?"

"Right. But I had to become worthy of it first," Link explained haltingly. "I remember how I felt when it first cast me away. Like I was the biggest failure in all of Hyrule. Mother didn't tell you that part, but I thought you should know."

"Oh," Tiran muttered awkwardly, his eyes going back to roaming about.

"I don't want this to make you give up," the hero continued, bringing a hand up to run through his hair nervously. Link had never been good at speeches, especially the motivational kind, and most especially when it came to his son. "The reason we never told you about it was because we didn't want you to feel like you had to live up to a legend. But now that you know the legend, I guess you're feeling pretty pathetic right now?"

"N-no," Tiran insisted in a weak voice. "I told you, I'm fine."

"Ah. Forgive me for thinking that, then," Link replied. "But just in case you were, I wanted to tell you that heroism is something you earn with years of dedication and training. Just because you're not worthy of the sword now doesn't mean that you won't ever be. Even if the sword never chooses you, you should never stop doing your best. And..." He faltered, glancing nervously to the side. "...and Mother and I will always be here for you, Chosen Hero or not."

"Okay. Thanks," Tiran mumbled, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his elbows across them. Link regarded his son for another moment, chewing his lip. In spite of his best efforts, Tiran remained something of a mystery to him. Try as he might, at the end of the day, Zelda was the only one who really understood the young prince. Link heaved a sigh and stood, clasping Tiran's shoulder by way of saying farewell. He left without speaking another word.

Tiran flopped back onto the bed and resumed staring at the ceiling. _Do your best._ That's all Father ever seemed to say to him. But even his best wasn't good enough for the sword. It wasn't good enough for Father. And after the little stunt he'd pulled today, he wasn't sure if it ever would be.

"Y'know, I'm real good at screwing things up," he mumbled to the ceiling. "It's just too bad I'm not good at the things that matter."

* * *

Out in the hallway, the Chosen Hero leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling above. Zelda met him there on her way to check on their son.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, laying a hand on his arm.

"You know, I'm real good at being a hero," Link told her hesitantly. "It's just too bad I'm not good at the things that matter."


End file.
